The Steamtug Blog

Did you ever have one of those girlfriends that insists everything has to be done her way? Well that’s how my relationship with my T120 Triumph is! Sure you can ride me, but we do it my way, and don’t expect to get back until I’m good and ready.

 With my week’s work done after my last nightshift Friday morning, I slept until lunchtime then loaded the last of my goods and chattels aboard my trusty steed, who was just itching to get going, and headed over to pick up my mate Skeg waiting in Lara on the way.

It was so sweet cruising along to the hum of the engine, the vibration buzz through the handle bars, and the oil stain on my left boot. We were even passing those pesky cars up into the goldfields area of our state. Daylesford was our first stop for a pie and snot block (vanilla slice… the girl in the shop had never heard it called a snot block and looked at us like bikies were weird or something!)  “Gee Sly” said Skeg, “She’s running like a bird!” Yeah mate, I am so glad I finally got all the bugs out after the last time she let me down.

With only 10 kms remaining to reach the rally ground, she decided enough was enough, “Now it’s time to do things my way” she was thinking as the spark became erratic. We finally rolled into the rally ground with her coughing, farting and pig rooting my confidence, pride and embarrassment into the ground.

Never mind… don’t let it get you down, there is work to be done getting the tent up and with Grandad there to welcome us with a cold tinnie, some re-hydration was higher on the priority list. Grandad has the coolest beard because years ago, he made a pledge that he would not cut his beard until they had an all brit rally without rain. Well quite amazingly that although a decade of drought which has been declared the worst on record, it has only ever managed to rain on this particular weekend. I told Grandad I had a picture of him on my shirt as I lifted my jumper to show him. And of course, the rain came down! Pouring most of Friday night, but I was warm, dry and too over hydrated in my little tent to even care.

In a place surrounded by experts in British bikes, you would think someone would know how to get my bike going. I know from experience it’s an electrical problem, but everyone said it’s the carbies. I heard so many theories from people with one hand around their can and the other hand in their pocket around something else. I was head down, arse up for ages. It’s blocked main jets! Pull the jets out and have a look. I don’t think so, but ok… nope,, all clean here. Well try this… try that… oh, I’m tired of this. She would start first kick as usual, but fail to rev up.

Saturday, all bikes ride to the historic town of Maldon for lunch. It’s a great sight to see the main street lined with 100’s of the most beautiful vintage bikes you would ever see. Then head back to camp for a steak sandwich, more hydration and rock on with the band. “The Zip Top 9’ers” was the band that played there last time I went 2 years ago. I was so impressed I brought their CD and played it in my room in Russia when I was homesick.

They lit up the world’s biggest bonfire, and I’m sure got phone calls from Greenpeace about the global warming. It certainly warmed me! /But with the new liquor laws the beer and band was off at midnight. Luckily we did a bit of forward planning and went back to our fire tin in camp where the boys got out the guitar, harmonica and fiddle. We had the best time. I went for a walk to see some other mates, but they had all gone to bed!! We finally turned in when the firewood and beer was finished at 3.30am.

Did I tell you the committee judges came around and put a sticker on my bike to say she was eligible for a prize. But I was too embarrassed to push it onto the oval with the other bikes selected. I looked them over in admiration before heading back to pack up my tent before heading up the road.

We coughed and farted back down the road towards home. She refused to go over 28 miles per hour! But at least she was running and making progress. After a long while, I rolled down a big hill, pulled in the clutch and get the revs up high, rode the clutch and got her moving fast at last, and getting better. At 70 mph I had to back the throttle down as she was singing like a bird! But all too soon, Daylesford and Sunday holiday traffic slowed me down to the point I had to stop… and that was it. I didn’t know then, but the battery was dead and she refused to start. I pushed it through the whole town, with people looking at me…. (I would still rather push than buy a Harley!) then rolled down the big hill towards Jubilee Lake. I kicked it into gear and away she went again. All the way to Balan, where she was completely finished. Fortunately Anita arrived with the trailer and took me home.

I have now forgiven her for letting me down. We still had a good weekend, and with all the information I have found on the internet about Boyer Ignition systems, and even know where to buy a whole new wiring loom, I am looking forward to getting her going again ready for the next adventure!